In the Shadow of Arabella Page 11

  Rudley maintained his grip on the bridle as she adjusted the stirrups to the proper length. “How long has it been?” he asked. “Are you sure you care to try it?”

  “I think I was fourteen when I last rode so,” she said, “but I daresay one does not forget. I most assuredly wish to go. Such an opportunity cannot be expected every day!”

  He allowed her to gather the reins and within a few moments he, too, was mounted. They trotted off down the tree-lined drive just as the sun broke over the horizon. Ninety minutes later they returned to the stable-yard and ran directly into Henderson, his lordship’s head groom.

  “You are out early, m’lord,” Henderson said. “Good morning, m’lady.” His tone was formally polite and nothing in his manner suggested that he saw anything extraordinary either in his mistress being dressed in men’s clothing or in her riding one of Lord Rudley’s most spirited horses astride. He took hold of both bridles as the riders dismounted. “If you had told me last night, m’lord, that you wished to ride this morning, I would have had the horses brought round for you.”

  “It was a last-minute decision, Henderson, and I saw no reason to trouble you.’’

  “It would have been no trouble, m’lord.” He walked away leading the horses, and Katherine turned toward the house.

  “We can get in through the side door in our wing,’’ Rudley said. “I have a key,” he added, as he produced it from his pocket.

  Katherine was laughing. “You look like a guilty schoolboy, my lord.”

  “Henderson has always affected me so,” he replied, smiling. “He is never precisely critical but manages to be so disapproving that Oliver and I have always had the hardest time pleasing him. He has such definite notions of what is right and wrong, but he is the best man with horses I have ever known.”

  “He clearly disapproves of your saddling for yourself,” Katherine commented, then added wickedly, “I must admit to a certain degree of astonishment myself that your lordship possesses such a skill.”

  He had turned the key in the lock, but as he swung the door open he paused to stare down at her, one eyebrow raised. “His lordship is also skilled in dealing with impertinent young ladies who are careless enough to tempt him too far.’’

  If he had any intention of making good on this threat, Katherine chose not to wait to find out. When he turned to close the door behind them, she darted ahead of him up the back stairs, speaking over her shoulder. “Thank you for the ride. I had a marvelous time.”

  “So did I,” he replied, watching until she disappeared at the top of the stairway. He gazed after her for a moment, then with a shake of his head strolled off down the passageway toward the breakfast parlor.

  When her maid came to waken her, Katherine was back in bed, her infamous riding clothes hidden away. Alongside the chocolate on her breakfast tray lay a note. There were only a few lines.

  Katherine,

  Kendall has informed me that there are some pressing estate matters that demand my immediate attention. I beg you will excuse me for the duration of the morning. I should be free by noon and will be at your disposal for the remainder of the day.

  Rudley

  Left with a morning to herself, Katherine was eager to spend the time with Pamela. After breakfast she made her way to her stepdaughter’s rooms and was pleased to see the child feeling better. She was not yet dressing, but she was out of bed, curled up in a large upholstered chair by the window, busy with some needlework.

  “Good morning, Lady Pamela. Your father insists that he must tend to business this morning, but I do not mind,” Katherine said, “for it gives us a chance to enjoy a long visit.”

  “I would like that very much, my lady,” Pamela replied, “But if you are my step-mama, could you not call me Pamela, as my father does?”

  Katherine smiled. “That would please me. And I do not believe we should have you address me as Lady Rudley. It seems very formal. Could you call me Katherine, do you think?”

  Pamela frowned and shook her head. “I do not think Papa would approve.” She seemed to study the problem for a moment and then said, “I think he would find it disrespectful.”

  Katherine leaned over to look at the embroidery the girl held. “Why, Pamela, this is lovely. You do beautiful work.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” The child blushed at the praise. “I enjoy needlework.”

  “I have been thinking of starting a project myself,” Katherine said.

  “A needlework project?” Pamela asked.

  Katherine nodded. “Let me go and find Mrs. Windom,” she said, “and I will explain my idea to you both.” Pamela’s governess, Miss Shaw, had been sitting quietly nearby, but at Katherine’s words she rose.

  “Excuse me, my lady, I will tell Mrs. Windom you wish to speak with her.’’

  “Thank you, Miss Shaw. Please do not take her from any important task. Tell her only that Lady Pamela and I should like to see her when it is convenient.”

  Barely five minutes had passed before Miss Shaw returned, accompanied by Mrs. Windom. The governess resumed her seat near the window and took up her embroidery, while the housekeeper asked Katherine how she could be of assistance.

  “You are familiar with the chair in the blue drawing room,” Katherine began, “the one his lordship’s mother made, the one that is badly worn?” She glanced from Mrs. Windom to Pamela and saw that the child’s face was troubled. “No,” she said quickly, “it is not what you are thinking. I do not wish to do away with it. I was wondering if you think I could copy it. As a surprise for your father.”

  “Copy it, my lady?” Mrs. Windom asked.

  “Yes,” Katherine responded. “Make it over again. I could use the same colors and make a copy of the original design. We could then apply the new work to the old chair and in effect roll the calendar back twenty years. The original choice of color and design would still be the work of Lord Rudley’s mother. I would simply be making it new again. What do you think, Pamela? Do you think your father would be pleased or displeased by such a change?”

  “I do not know what Papa would think, but I think it would be wonderful to have all the colors bright again!”

  “And what is your opinion, Mrs. Windom?” Katherine asked. “Can it be done?”

  “Well, my lady, it should be no problem to match the colors. And I suppose we could count the stitches and make a pattern for you to follow in the difficult places. It will take some considerable time, but I suppose it could be done. No one would be happier than I to have that worn chair out of the room, but I must tell your ladyship, I cannot be responsible for removing the old fabric without first consulting his lordship. He has made it very clear the chair is not to be tampered with.”

  “I will take complete responsibility, Mrs. Windom,” Katherine replied. “I have also considered that Lord Rudley might object to the change. We will have the old fabric removed carefully, and if he is opposed to the new chair, we can always have the old one back again.”

  “Miss Shaw and I have discussed the scene on the chair, my lady,” Pamela continued. “We think Grandmother must have made a sketch first and then done the needlework from that. The perspective is from the orchard.”

  “Lady Pamela has done a watercolor of that view,” the governess added. “Should you like to see it, Lady Rudley? I think it is one of her best efforts.”

  “Yes, please,” Katherine said. “I would like to very much.”

  Pamela’s bedchamber had an attached sitting room similar to Katherine’s. As Mrs. Windom excused herself and went about her business, the other three moved into the adjoining room. It was not furnished as a traditional sitting room but was clearly used as a schoolroom instead. There were extensive bookcases taking up one entire wall. A large globe stood near two antique writing desks, while another corner was occupied by a pianoforte. The most striking aspect of the room by far was the large number of drawings, sketches, and paintings scattered about. Many were displayed on the walls; several sat on easels, s
ome clearly finished and being exhibited thus, while others were still in the midst of the creative process.

  Miss Shaw led Katherine to a group of watercolors on the near wall and indicated one. “It is the same scene as the chair, but in a different season, of course.’’

  “I think I know the exact spot where Grandmother sat when she drew her sketch,” Pamela said. “On the shore of the lake at the far side of the orchard; no other spot gives exactly that perspective.”

  Katherine studied the delicate work before her. While the scene on the chair depicted the vivid colors of high summer, this scene, though identical, stood in sharp contrast to it. The season was winter, the trees stark and barren, the gray house blending into the snow-covered ground yet standing out clearly from it. The lake, frozen and immobile, showed the palest tinge of blue in rare spots where the snow had blown clear of the thin ice. With little range in color available to her, Pamela had captured marvelous perspective in her painting. Even the sky, which an artist could have made believably blue at that season, Pamela had left dark and glooming—also gray. The evergreens held the only color worth mentioning. They were bold, their dark green seeming like the brightest scarlet when contrasted to the sullen grays of the scene. Katherine spent long moments studying the watercolor. She did not notice when Miss Shaw motioned Pamela to a nearby easel where the child picked up her charcoal and continued a drawing she had started there.

  Katherine’s eyes were lured from the winter view of Rudley Court to the sketch next to it on the wall. It was an intricate rendering in charcoal of the gracious arched bridge over the stream. Above that was another watercolor, this time of a church—perhaps the one in the village. Next in line was a rich oil painting of a bay horse pacing in a grassy paddock. Katherine recognized Tortuga instantly. Beyond the oil was another charcoal, a portrait of the earl. Pamela had captured her father exactly, though Katherine felt his face appeared too harsh and uncompromising—perhaps Pamela saw him that way. Katherine turned to find herself alone and walked the few steps to where the girl was sketching.

  “Pamela, your work is extraordinary! You have such a gift, and you use it so well.”

  The child blushed with pride, but it was her teacher who spoke first. “Your ladyship is most kind to say so. I agree she has an excellent eye and a good memory for detail. She did the sketch of his lordship from memory.”

  Katherine glanced about at the easels and the array of works mounted on the far wall. “I should like to see the rest of your work, Pamela. Will you show them to me? Tell me what each is?”

  “I have a great many drawings, my lady,” Pamela explained. “The drawers of the desk are full of them.”

  Katherine’s eyes brightened. “Good, I cannot wait to see them. I want to see them all!”

  *

  Chapter 10

  The morning flew by for Katherine. She had always appreciated amateur art, but the more she saw of Pamela’s work, the more thoroughly convinced she became that the child had rare talent. She wondered why Rudley had never mentioned it. Surely it was uncommon to have so gifted a child; most parents would be outspoken about such an accomplishment. Yet Katherine knew her husband was not a typical parent. He had never willingly offered any information about Pamela. He seldom mentioned the child and in response to Katherine’s questions supplied only the barest facts.

  She met her husband at noon, determined to make Pamela one of their next topics of conversation. When Rudley asked how she had spent her morning, she found the perfect opportunity.

  “I visited with Pamela. Why did you not tell me she was gifted?”

  “She is accomplished for her age,” he replied, “but her governess tells me that she applies herself to her studies. That, of course, helps to explain her proficiency. Miss Shaw came with the highest recommendations I have ever seen for a woman of her profession.”

  “I was referring particularly to Pamela’s skill in drawing and painting. I was impressed.”

  “Indeed?”

  His question seemed to be a simple polite inquiry, but Katherine detected a note of disbelief in his tone. Was it her imagination? Perhaps he did not admire Pamela’s style. Art was certainly a matter of individual taste.

  She decided to be more specific. “Have you seen her latest charcoals depicting scenes of the stables and stable-yard?”

  “Miss Shaw delivers to me each month a report on Pamela’s progress,” he replied. “Her reports are very complete.”

  Katherine was not prepared for such overt disinterest; the subject was boring him. She felt deflated, and when she could think of no response to his last comment, she fell silent. She could hardly force him to discuss Pamela if he was disinclined to do so.

  Later that afternoon Rudley and Katherine rode again, this time with Katherine properly mounted on Karma. In the weeks that followed they spent many pleasurable hours covering the miles of roads and lanes, fields and forests that were the earl’s inheritance. Each day there was a new direction to explore, another tenant to visit, another memory for the earl to recount. They spent a great deal of time in the stables, with Katherine trying to learn the names of Rudley’s horses as well as their bloodlines and the unique qualities that made each one special to him.

  On rainy or windy days they stayed indoors where Rudley led Katherine on intricate tours of the house. Each room was full of beauty and history and memories. There were rare pieces of furniture and objets d’art, each with a story of its own. There were numerous portraits, many of them of the earl’s ancestors. Some of these were lackluster individuals who had carried on rather humdrum existences, but others were much more colorful. There was Rudley’s uncle Sidney, a dashing blond Adonis who was shot through the heart in a duel defending the honor of the woman he loved. There was the earl’s great-grandmother who by the age of forty had not a tooth in her mouth but nevertheless grinned broadly for the artist who immortalized her. She was said to have sworn like a sailor and ruled her lord with an iron hand. There was Rudley’s father, the fourth earl. In a full-length rendering by Sir Joshua Reynolds, he appeared to be an older version of Oliver—tall, fair, broad-shouldered, handsome—a renowned politician and leader of his party, a devoted husband and father, a lover of art who had filled his home with exquisite treasures.

  As the days passed Katherine was permitted to see a side of her husband she had not seen before. In London he had behaved conventionally, and she had the impression that this behavior was an integral part of his personality. In the country, however, he seemed less rigid, more relaxed, even slightly reckless. If anyone had suggested to her in London that he would permit, even encourage, his wife to behave with impropriety, she would never have believed it. He had, however, done just that when he allowed her to ride his stallion astride. Nor had that adventure been a momentary lapse on his part, for they had since enjoyed two more secretive early-morning rides together. He was so attentive, so constant in his concern for her, that she would have been a fool indeed if she had not realized his feelings for her were stronger than those of mere friendship.

  Rudley wanted more than anything for Katherine to return his regard, and without realizing it he was doing the one thing surest to attract her. He was not burying her with gifts, nor overpowering her with compliments. He was simply being himself and sharing himself with her. His time, except for that which he must give to the estate, was hers to command. He shared freely with her his home, which he clearly loved. He shared his thoughts, his memories, his plans for the future, his feelings—good and bad alike.

  And his openness encouraged hers. He wanted to know all about her life before they met, and she found herself recounting things she had thought long forgotten. He was the good listener she had suspected he would be, and as she had once confided in him about her horse Jeremy, she now related memories of her parents, sharing things she had never before spoken of to anyone.

  For his part Rudley was pleased with the way their relationship was progressing. He had not been surprised by her ne
ed to postpone the intimacy of marriage. He knew she would not easily forget her attachment to Parnaby.

  His times of temptation, however, were many and great. The morning he had taken her the riding clothes, he was thinking only of how surprised and excited she would be when he offered to let her ride one of his stallions. He was not prepared for her sleepy eyes, her tumbled hair in the candlelight, and the allure of her intimate night apparel. He was sorely tempted to linger and talk with her, so he handed her the clothing and left quickly, shutting temptation away. During several of those long nights when he lay alone, knowing she was so close, he had almost gone to her, but then he reminded himself that they had been married only a few weeks. He was determined not to rush his fences.

  Late one rainy afternoon, Rudley drew his curricle team up outside the house and handed the reins to Henderson. He had driven to Winchester on business and had time to regret taking an open carriage. Inside the great hall he relinquished his wet hat and gloves to a footman.

  He paused at the hall table where a pile of letters lay. Several were for Katherine. One he knew was from her sister—he recognized the handwriting—from the Lincoln boarding school; another was almost certainly from Charity Harrington, who corresponded regularly with Katherine. Also on the table was a letter for the outgoing post. It was addressed in Katherine’s hand to a Sir Humphrey Corey, also of Lincolnshire. Assuming Katherine had left it there for him to frank, he uncovered the ink, selected a quill, and scribbled his name across the corner of the folded sheet. Then, taking his own letters with him, he went upstairs to change.

  Later that evening during dinner he thought of the letters again. “You had a wealth of correspondence today,” he said.

  “Yes, I did,” Katherine replied. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something. Lady Brent wrote last week to say that she is taking Marie to Bath for part of the summer and she offered to take Serena, too. There will be parties and informal dances, picnics, and so forth. Her ladyship thought Serena might enjoy it.”